New Book Opening
First Word I might rather have been a slave in the Deep South before the Civil War. The road to slavery might be short or long. Mine was long. It started with parents who hid secrets that lurked in ever-growing shadows, secrets that wounded me whether I knew them or not. Their neglect of me and of what the secrets caused gave an open invitation to rapists, starting with junior high boys. Like a long, winding row of perverse dominoes, that path brutalized me on to graduation into New York City sex trafficking. Shane’s image comes alive. Unlike him it…
Indentured from Birth
The 10-year-old child struggles with the load of clay he is to turn into bricks. All day. He dreams of school, of a better life. But if he doesn’t make bricks, he doesn’t eat. His parents could find no other work, and they took out loans to survive. Loans they now cannot repay, and probably never will. When they die, their children will inherit the unrepayable debt. They will never play like other kids, never go to school, never read and write. And they will likely make bricks for their wealthy owner until they die. Many landowners, brick kiln operators,…
